One, two, three, only then, at the third or fourth becoming aware of my hips as they continue thrusting and her voice, my wife still underneath, with ...e, doing this.‘My pussy’s milking you, love. You’re filling me up. I feel you’.My cum shooting into her, five… six, each stroke silkier, wetter. How many cummy pulses, warm cum, semen filling her? Eleven, twelve maybe? A decrescendo, a deflation. Done. Over. Still in her. A little limp. A different state of mind. Exhaling, resting on her body.‘Oh. Not to give privacy - everyone was too exhibitionistic to need it - but to create a nice bordellolike effect. The women had admitted at dinner that there were times when they wished that they had become whores. Their tastes differed in this respect, though. Nell said that she would want to be a really high-priced, pampered call-girl if she were to go in for whoring. Tessie had stated that she would much prefer to have been a streetwalker."I'd fuck truck drivers, guys like that. Talk about men!. More

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